Arkeleus Herohyme
Name: Arkeleus Herohyme ~ The Inverted Immortal Age: 340 before being inverted, Ageless after the inversion. Gender: Male Homeworld: Euphemeron Species: Euphemerian-Immortal Armaments: Arkeleus believes it necessary to be armed to an adequate degree. From times of his magics being inverted by the counter-chaos requiem steel, which stabbed into his body, he assimilated and overcame it's terrible magics. From his body, he can freely pull the same steel and all it's terrible aura as an extension of his being. This aside, he levies on his magical abilities to dish out a series of devastating demolition. Yet, newly acquired to his arsenal, the Staff of Ultazon Raxmus, powered on a separate extension linked with restorative properties. Grand levels of magic haven't been achieved since the age of the luminous one. Appearance: With age, Arkeleus was a strong and poised man. Standing a towering six feet, two inches off the ground. Possessing with him a grave disposition as it reflected his experiences and exploits. Amassed in armor forged by blacksmiths of Euphemeron, it aided him when entering battle many times. Conventional, steel chain-mail reinforced by his own magics, the epic hero was well protected from other magics from thine foes and physical blades condemned to strike him down. With valor, his prideful appearance, melanin tinted glory be his tint. Hair, affluent spiked mildly, and dyed a fairly rich shade of blue. Gauntlets, guarding his palms, they possessed with them reinforced palms for magical trickery leaning towards off hand spells. Armor over the person, yet not between the gap of his abdomen where he'd expose his manly valor. His eyes, a stunning hazel, they appear like fierce flickering gem's of a relinquished king, where his spoils were for the taking. Truly, in his vanity, he stands prompt for battle, this ring-giver of Euphemeron. Personality: His vanity is Arkeleus' greatest noticeable strength, such valor in his rise from the epic king of Eumpheron, to a god with the raw force of magic. Though vaguely stated, for times of his childhood, Arkeleus was a humble boy. Even through his pride he thought it valuable to maintain some form of kindness among mortals. Though as he began to grow, fighting many battles, his heart was slowly beginning to turn and spoof a preemptive chill over his heart. The workings of which would send him to not rely on his men, this king of Eumpheron. Hardened by time, the governance of his kingdom, he was a rigid wall for many a year. Till the day of his great change, the counter-chaos requiem's steel piercing his heart to set him into an inverted being. After his life went through a full one eighty, overcoming the inversion of not only his abilities, age, and life, it opened his mind which had been closing slowly as his times as king. His personality becoming dynamic and seems to always be changing as he adapts to suit the greater situation he's presented with. Abilities: Per his origins, he'd found he was able to manipulate the same magics he'd had when he was alive. Roughly categorizing in mainly psionics were his original ability per say. This split into several waves of manipulation from Clairvoyance to telepathy. He'd further broadened his magical flexibility to some arcane magic with time to adapt and heighten his awareness. His strengths lie in Conjuration, Evocation, Illusion, and Universal. Other forms he's not quite as adept in. Since Vaylon's death, he's grown much more adept in his magic prowess. Even in the cases he manipulates every form of which includes himself. Bio: ~Prologue~ In many times tolled from way back when the omniverse was pulling into space and time. The unstable bonds themselves tearing the others asunder Many a great planet came spawn into existence. Several raw forces branching from magic were burst through Siphoing rapid power and magics alike. There were the systems for which to balance this power. So born, were the magical planes albeit physical, naught hollow and others an endless paradox of the two. From theses forces were man great gods born alike, being pulled by the very fabric of this force it seemed all to grave for one to mark it. The very first gods, the manifest of the ever expanding omniverse's wonder. From the depths of space, time, dimensions, and various continuum that ensue. These gods existed within different realms, planets, all on different planes. One was to wager their hollow forms could disperse such power. A wave of the finger would be all it was necessary to erase a mortal from the face of the gods' feet. This horrendous amount of power within the omniverse would not only be dangerous, but the very thing that could tear it, levied under it's own superfluous scale. So came the meetings, kinships, and obliteration amongst the gods. It wasn't until their periodic calm, to be settled on the material plane. Prime, thus dubbed Earth. The central and lone epicenter of the magical planes, here they doth branch out from. So it rested that should this planet be wiped from where it stands, may the omniverse plead it's mercy upon the gods and mortals that possess properties of magic, yet have naught the pure force pushing them into their being to sustain thy form. Even the gods were set to certain limitations, though the times passed like long days, their own desires and whims to be carried out even so.~The Prophecy~ Lying in the depths of the omniverse, there in lay two epic forces of nature. The dominant and radiance that dine in the blood of the fallen. This god. It appeared as though he were to triumph the lesser gods as he'd gone on To such lengths, yet to be surpassed, His wrath, one to perservere til' the days of men and gods are to cease. Yet tales speak of another, a second entity of equated caliber treading the inverse omniverse justice. one, not residing the ridiculed disdain of a god's valor, but more so pertaining to the untapped magis of magic in all it's grandiose glory. A manifest of inverse magics. Such boast and claims to title belong to that of a mad man. Indeed, here in lay the unbridled strengths of one who hasn't been completely measured, eyes to be trialed through his quest to become a recognized god. There was a name, the lost name in the unwritten book of the Omniverse's time. The time draws nigh, Arising from the depths of secrecy and bitter deception, a black god of the inverse magics. ~''Breath of Life~''' The screams of a Jubilant child sprouting form through the stomach of thine fortuitous woman of creation. A child, be him male, born not of woman, his fate differeing from those to come. A special child, with gifts to follow him in his growth into an aspiring figure, it wouldn't be long before his times in the light were to shine. The parental figures, Gorverak and Teldra bickering to name thine son of radiance he'd shine, fond of Arkeleus, ending name Herohyme. What great justice wrung for this newborn. He'd become something measurable as the omniverse was still young. Thy newborn sreamed in glee, as his cry echoed over his sanctuary and home, Euphemron. The bells releasing their vibrant rings for this miracle that would model a new age. Young infant, rising above the others with special display of the magical arts. The child, his name Arkeleus, unique in his special skills of the arcane arts, that his primary, raw magic he doth purge from his palm to further his growth. A mere toddler, his age hasn't been marked, yet Euphemron had already taken keen eyes to him. His people, in times of merriment and glee, this brought him happiness. Such a setting would help him to grow and mature into an upright fellow in his environment. ''~Growth~ Akeleus' expressed his expanding knowledge of the magical expression. His body trained like that of a thinking boy of seventeen in mortal years. By appearance, the melanin shaded mage's growth was one his people prided. Though, as for times for which tainted their peace called for affirmative action. A mere boy, Arkeleus raised his fist in defiance to thine enemies demands. Euphemron's first invasion, by their hated counterparts, the Crylinthons. Oh great king, so forth thine ring-giver to the hated side, Reitgarth of the proud yet vile cretans to tread Euphemron soils. His blade pointed into the face of the very child, he showed no sympathy, for this, a mere child interfering with his ambition guided by his own malice. Rein his palm, they men invade, mortals for the taking. Enraged, releasing one's rising magical fury, Arkeleus rebelled releasing a grand expansive burst of rippling magic unto the Crylinthon's as they endow in agony and despair. Back they flew, driven into the very dirt of Euphemron. This didn't please Reitgarth in the slightest, mind toned to rage, and rising fury. Unsheathing said vorpal blade, a murder would make himself, to slaughter a child without haste. Drained, his breath fading to a pant, under the hovering demon above, Arkeleus fleeting backward, lest his head be cleaved clean off by the great battle-head's blade. "Oh such claims to power make thine enemies a flutter. They praise you, a child, such words disgust and fill my blood with hatred for your life. Thus your growth shall wither. Soak in with your shattered entity and flooded corpse of crimson liquor!" So did thin vengeful assailant profess? Gripping thy vorpal blade so profusely, what little difference in all it actually made. Rising from the shambles of the soil, Arkeleus unarmed professed his boast as assurance of such tales to fulfill. Flooding thine palms with the arcane arts, his mancery, both swift and spontaneous keeping the focus built thine chant uttered. "Hembralac, Nyfuse, Tikradim, Galfuga!" Arkeleus speaking in Euphemian tongues, as his twisting magics weaved to bind thine evil break-charlatan in his grasp. Such release, to spell over the king, setting his body a slither. Accelerating his age to rapid levels, he withered to bones and dust at the hands of a child, the glory that he obtained with the mere mention of his magics. In time, Arkeleus became king of the great Euphemerians. The people praised in joy for their ring-giver as he'd risen to such high status after experiencing so much. His trials as a king were to start at the very beginning of his rein. With little trepidation to distract him, his rule was governed swift and with little shreds of mercy. His feet moving down the halls of his palace he attained it all and kept things in order. For on the brink of war against the foul creatures from the far Terzion lands. To arms, Arkeleus and his men did tread onto the soils of thine enemy, vanity be their greatest power, not far from the king's magic oversight. So war-time spread. Like a fire, the great king over many winters, long since past. A mighty figure of seventy, his will still strong and his magic even stronger. Aged well, such magics were seen as bridging the phenomenal. Triumph, seemed to follow his name along with many a great battle. Fist held high, he seemed to be a strong willed, and cold hearted individual. The king loosing sight of his reasons for being their salvation, stiff be the feelings of sentimentality. A cold blooded murder, for so his time continued did he tread into the rich glory pathed with blood and death. His words left to wring around in the mind's of his people. Just who be this man, or figure, or entity, and where be their true king? ~The Inversion~ The length for the life of a mortal, what seemed to be a short one. Grand in length, thine king had aged a great deal, his will however not one to dim from such a realizaton. Opening up his mind, he scoffed at this and maintained the youth in his mind. Ripened age of three hundred and forty. A new blood of evil, invading thine kingdom yet still as his will kept his consciousness alive, he'd continue to fight in all of his glory. To battle, he blazed against those treading from the inverted plane where chaos opposite of order trailed with them. Their grand elite warrior and divine leader, Voytulmar, the chaos king! His mockery of the Euphemerians king in every possible manner wet his face with delight, smiling upon his days long since gone when he was truly fierce. "Be it a century earlier, and maybe you'd stand a better chance against my unbridled you. Old timer, retire thy divine blade and submit to my sheer power branching from thine being. Saving you the hassle of withering your tired bones." Voytulmar did indeed profess. The king, cold, bitter, and as stubborn as it may would cry ignorance to his words of taunt. Raising his mortal blade, he drew it to his enemy and persevered not quite turning down this foe of unbridled skill. His will, strong, determined, and fresher blood than he. As the battle continued, it seemed as though, his limits were finally set in. Chaotic magics, weaponry, and swordsmenship much swifter than his own. It wasn't until that shining moment he'd been run straight through. His body tainting with the counter-chaos steel from Voytulmar leaving it to flood his being. His magics being tainted, he'd die in a matter of seconds of that he assured. The king, to tremble back and stumbled on thine knee. He could feel his body beginning to tremble all over, it would surely consume him. Yet there was a sign of his resistance. That unflinching will of his was a sharp as ever. Still not willing to back down, gripping the blade with both hands, his magic overflowed from his being. Forcefully pushing the steel into his very form. He was absorbing the powers of the immortal sword, his entity and magics alike taking on the characterstics, himself inverting through the process. Growing stronger with each passing second that went by. Thine divine ring-giver of Euphemeron, in his plight merged himself with that said power that was to destroy him. From his heart chamber, did his heart stop beating, however the midpoint between life and death presented him with means of escape. Resistance to being controlled and consuming his downfall to reform, reborn anew. A God. The Inverted immortal had stepped from the bowel's of the old king's soles and armor. Hurled back through time perhaps it was supposed at first, yet his body inverted all over. He was amazed to find himself in his youthful state, retaining even his prior magics in tact. To his delight, and profuse glee, he'd gained the inverse magics locked within the counter-chaos blade wielded by Voytulmar. Drawing his bane from his body, like dislocating a bone, he levied a heavy blow beheading thine youthful foe with a glimpse of his blood to slide down it's slender form. A great triumph for the great king, no longer that in the eyes of his people, he'd achieved something beyond that of a mortal body. Truely, he'd become a god. As the prophecy fortold, there was a manifestation of inverse magics, realized within the now young Arkeleus, The Inverted Immortal. ~Current Events Arkeleus in his fondness of what seemed a roaming of the omniverse however keeping an eye to his planet. He'd ascended upon the plane of Faerun which had housed the luminous one of legend. Vaylon Lightstar. It was here were he'd determine things of a magnitiude to enhance his intelligence. Aptly honored, others had made their way to the scene. A divine being bridging to God, The Prayer, the child of the underworld Zexos, the woman of no instability, Ankuko, the Necromancer and death incarnate Zetsumi, The Dreamer Ukiah Oregon, The Wake Mitsukai so many others, all gathered in one place. None of the names were recognizable to Arkeleus for he was the newest force that'd joined their ranks. As this conflict did ensue, the example to be made of their path to engage on Faerun, Zexos being tested yet, failing from the get go. Saved by the gracious hands of the prayer's silver mist and delivering from the hands of his own end. Yet that kind of blind persistence lead to a course of events, of which Arkeleus himself then saved him from utter destruction. Then there was Vaylon. Whom crippled Arkeleus with merely his presence alone. Moving away from the site, within the walls of his castle he'd rose from the underside of Faerun. With means of an uneasy presence about him, the two were very similar in the mannerisms as to which they were as beings. Both of the same quality, Vaylon much more potent and concentrated, sharing a brief bit of consort there was the attempt by the prayer and ankoku to annihilate Vaylon. Utter despair befell them, between the combined efforts of not only Vaylon, but Ukiah Oregon they attempted crumbled and Ankoku began to residually fade. The Prayer, in his more grotesque and shifted state as he prayed to Ankoku, taking what left of his residual and much more beyond divine power to escape with Ankoku still alive. Events grim more and more as the battle continued. It was then the fated had happened. Vaylon's death. Ended by his hunter, and with the restoration of his homeworld, he'd achieved all that seemed necessary. It was then Vaylon returned to his mortality only to be slain by his predator but not before assuming what was left of his powerful magics. In silence did the dreamer, the wake, and the inverted look. Able to feel the strife of a great life, the true watcher of the omniverse suddenly...fade and become nothing more than a memory. As if a piece of everyone suddenly died... ~The Quiet '' ''Some time after Vaylon's death, Arkeleus sought out his own means to develop his magics and came upon quite a few characters of whom he'd concealed to only his grace. He'd restored Zexos sometime after the confrontation as he'd undone the chaos that befell him, mainly his life being shortened so suddenly. Here In the quiet of the omniverse the luminous one's light was gone. With his insight and power, he assumed the eyes and watchful position in his own right. The newest manifest of magic, master of the inverse arts, Arkeleus, with some justice on his side traced his power across the omniverse and became its next observer.